these are our reflections in puddles
by slam a revolving door
Summary: [Oneshot] 'When you first met her, you knew she was beautiful, but you never really understood what it was that drew Danny to her.' [Joe, Cameronhusband, CameronJoe  backstory fic]


**spoilers: **for _spin,_ and cameron backstory

- - -

"the universe is dead"  
it's what you always said  
i'm trying to understand  
what's going through your head

_dreams call out to me _ evermore

- - -

**georgy girl**

When you first met her, you knew she was beautiful, but you never really understood what it was that drew Danny to her. And if you were honest, you didn't really know what it was about him that drew her to him. She was reserved and withdrawn, sure, but she was _young_ . Why would she waste her life on a dying man?

You could probably ask yourself the same question, but you never had, and it would be much later before someone – her, as it happened – would ask you. As it was, you just didn't consider it – why would you?

But you were nice to her, and she was nice to you, and you pretended that you liked each other, even though it wasn't as though you _didn't_. And you were glad that Danny seemed happier – or at least, wasn't prone to hurling objects around the room while she was around.

Sometimes you thought she had the same effect on you too.

- - -

You wonder how she can seem so happy when her boyfriend is dying. She smiles often in his presence, and sometimes you think he might love her too.

You'd never thought Danny could really love someone, but, then again, he was always good at pretending.

- - -

You find her one day in a coffee shop with a dark-haired man who leans over the table to speak urgently to her. She glances around as though cornered, and her gaze meets yours. There is a sudden flash of panic in her eyes, and you are suddenly suspicious on Danny's behalf. You stride over – what good best friend wouldn't? – and she pushes her chair back to stand up. Both of you cringe slightly as the chair scrapes noisily against the floor, but the man across the table from her bows his head. His hands are clasped, and for a wild moment, you think he is praying.

"Hi," she says shakily, and you smile.

"Hey Allison," you say cheerfully, sending a surreptitious glance at the man next to her. "Going to Danny's later?"

She nods, but doesn't smile back. Her face, when serious, is a lot grimmer than you'd expected. Looking down at the man next to her, she half-shrugs before her childhood indoctrination of manners takes over. "Karl, this is Joe; Joe, my father."

You murmur a hasty hello, and pause awkwardly, suddenly acutely aware of the history drifting in the air between the two. "I'd better go," you say. "I'll see you later?"

She nods coolly and sits down again. "Bye."

You walk out into the cold breeze of the street and are oddly relieved when it starts to rain.

- - -

Later, when you see her at Danny's place, neither of you mention it. You think maybe she's grateful for that.

- - -

**divertimento No. 11 for oboe, 2 horns & strings in D major, K. 251: No.2: Allegro molto**

Danny calls you on your mobile in the middle of work one day, and you hang up on him, smiling saccharinely at your boss, who is glaring daggers at you. Moments later, a call comes through on the office phone for you, and you consider not answering it. Just because he's dying doesn't mean he has the right to get you fired. But when you do answer it – and you do, because you're his best friend, and a masochist besides – his voice is so hoarse and rough that you can barely make it out.

"Saw the doctor," he croaks. "Have six months left."

And then, into the silence –

"I'm going to ask Allison to marry me."

- - -

You don't bother to tell him that it's futile – that no self-respecting girl would marry a man with six months to live – because you suspect that he knows anyway. Instead, you are there with him, helping him choose the engagement ring. You do, however, make sure he keeps the receipt, because you're pretty sure he'll have to return it sooner or later. Danny is excited – excited in a way he has never been before, and you're happy for him, really.

You just think it's a pity you're going to have to pick up the pieces when it all comes crashing down over his head.

- - -

You come home from work on the day that Danny has planned to propose with a sinking feeling in your gut, and the nauseous awareness that you're being clichéd. The green light of the answering machine blinks at you, and you look away. You don't really want to know, do you?

Of course you do.

And if there's that little bit of _hope_ lingering in the air that you're trying to ignore.

In the end, you call him, because you'd much rather hear it from a person as opposed to an answering machine. You don't delete the message – message_s_ ; there are two, not one – because you like keeping things. You like remembering.

"Danny? How did it go?"

His answer takes a while in coming, and when it does, his voice is choked, as if he's been crying. "She said yes."

You nod slowly. Maybe you hang up. You don't know.

He deserves to be this happy.

- - -

**valses**

You see Allison the next day, and she looks so happy that it almost hurts. You hug her, or she hugs you, and whisper your congratulations. She's beaming and babbling about wedding details – and for a moment it's almost like she thinks they have a future together. You don't talk about Danny's latest doctor's appointment – although that's what you really want to talk about – because you don't want to bring her back to reality. It's nice to see that one of Danny's friends still has hope – although she's much much more now, isn't she? – so you avoid the subject. So does she, but she does it with so much more flair and nonchalance than you think you ever possessed. She's all innocence and smiles, and you don't want to challenge that. You don't want to see the ghosts that lurk around her.

You don't think you've ever discussed Danny's condition with her. You think you might be glad of it.

- - -

You start dating one of Allison's friends – Tracey: a short, pretty blond, who, although she doesn't possess Allison's grace, doesn't have Allison's ghosts either. It makes her a lot easier to be around, because you still haven't figured Allison out yet. You're not sure if you'll ever.

Danny starts spending more time with his other friends, and you tell Tracey that you're worried about him. She peers at you, placing her napkin down.

"Joe," she asks carefully. "You care a lot about him, don't you?"

You nod, unsure as to where she is going with this. She nods too and waits for it to hit.

"I'm not gay!" you blurt out, horrified. Allison obviously hasn't gone over this with her, and you're surprised. "It's just … it's just that he's dying, Trace."

She's shocked. Maybe you were a little too blunt.

- - -

**into the ocean (calling you)**

You get a phone call from Danny late one night, inexplicably outraged and drunk. You get him off the phone as soon as you can and head over to his apartment.

Allison is on the doorstep, in tears, as she pushes past you. She pauses, looking up blindly into your eyes. " _Dying_, Joe?" she pleads. "Why didn't either of you –"

She turns away.

- - -

**here with me**

You remember that she comes back eventually, and agrees to marry him anyway. He's lucky, you think, because no other girl would do the same after he'd lied to her for so long. Maybe you've found another masochist to keep you company this last six months.

Allison talks to you a whole lot more, and the image you had of the naïve, innocent girl slowly disintegrates with the bitterness that fills her words. Gone are the wedding plans and the talk of the future – now you can discuss Danny's condition with her.

It's funny how you don't want to.

- - -

They get married in a quiet service, with minimal fuss and people. Danny's family is there, and Allison's brother walks her down the aisle. You watch as she walks towards the two of you, but Danny keeps his face turned obstinately towards the front of the church. She glances up at you, and maybe she's crying, but she gives you a quick smile, and your breath catches in your throat.

- - -

**hear me out**

She doesn't talk to you for weeks after you try to kiss her. She smiles politely when you enter the hospital room and leaves to give Danny some time with you. If he notices anything, he doesn't let on. You find yourself lingering over the phone and trying to stop yourself from leaving messages on her mobile because you know it's not fair – not fair to either of them or you.

"Why her, Dan?" you ask him one day, when she's just gone downstairs to have coffee. He smiles vaguely – it's one of his good days – and drums an irregular pattern on the bedrail. The loud clock on the wall ticks regularly in protest – a countdown.

"Because she wanted to believe," Danny replies lazily. "I think I might love her."

You nod. You can empathise.

- - -

You wait for her at the coffee machine – she's given up on the herbal crap. She looks up at you, and brushes her hair from her face.

"How long has it been?" she asks quietly, setting down her cup on a sheaf of lecture notes.

"Long," you tell her gently.

"Yeah," she says, and breaks down.

**- - -**

You remember just holding her. Both of you needed someone, and Danny needed the both of you.

- - -

**volcano**

She's gathering her things from the empty hospital room when you turn up, sliding the door open quietly. She doesn't look up, concentrating on zipping the bag up instead.

"Want a lift?" you whisper. Her fingers fumble on the zip for a moment, and she nods.

- - -

The car slows to a stop and you look at each other.

"Thank you, Joe," she says and kisses you on the cheek.

Is this survivor's guilt?

- - -

**the sun in the stream**

Everyone's dressed in black, except for the poor disillusioned few who thought Danny'd have liked them to be 'happy'. As the last flowers are laid, she turns to you, and it's time for you to answer the question that you've never wanted to consider.

"Why?" she asks, as the mourners weep, en masse, around the two of you. You look around and wonder if these people ever really knew the manipulative bastard that they're mourning. You decide not. If they had, they wouldn't be weeping. (neither of you are crying)

"Because," you reply, and she smiles, nodding. A shadow of Danny flits across her face and settles in the curve of her lips, and somehow you knew he'd always haunt her. "And you?" you ask.

"Me?" She tiltsher head on the side, and for a moment, you could see all the phantoms that she hadn't quite left behind. "I love him, Joe."

You nod too, and don't bother to correct her tenses. You never really liked grammar anyway.

**- - -**

**the last goodbye**

"Are you sure this is what you want?" you ask her. She hoists her bag over her shoulder and turns to grin cheerfully at you.

"I have a fellowship under Dr. House – what i more /i could I ask for?" she asks, but you're not fooled. You can see all the hurt written on her face, and you can only hope that this Dr House won't be able to.

"Good luck," you tell her honestly, smiling back.

"Thanks," she says, reaching out to give you a hug.

You pull her in close and try to remember her as best you can. You know – you just know – that you won't see each other again. But you don't want to lose her.

You've already lost her.

- - -

**on the run**

She draws back and smiles again, tapping you gently on the nose. "See you," she says.

Turning, she walks through the airport gates, and you watch her leave.

- - -


End file.
